


I Hate—Love You

by anayrovi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Pining, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anayrovi/pseuds/anayrovi
Summary: During nights like these, you wonder if he truly is your soulmate.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 87
Kudos: 290





	1. The Coldest Night

> **_During nights like these, you wonder if he truly is your soulmate._ **

How cruel can he be? How can he leave you, waiting like a sitting duck, carrying heavy bags of groceries in front of store in such a late hour? Why can't he spare a few minutes of his life to drive you back home? 

The tempestuous wind-driven rain feels soothing, enthralling even, pulling you to the enchanting pitter-patter that the cement ground is performing. The pungent smell hits your nose, however, it does not distract your mesmerized mood from the smooth dark-purple 9:30 PM sky, the light pollution protruding through the heavy clouds that reminds you of the sweater you left resting on your creamy white nightstand decorated with chipped mahogany. You tap the ground with your heels, resenting your poor decision skills regarding footwear. 

You grip the handles of the totes tightly as if the anger you have will dissipate with the wind and leave you feeling happier, possibly even satisfied with your current situation. You curse in hushed whispers, cursing whoever brought this upon you, whoever engraved the name Miya _fucking_ Atsumu on the area below your left breast, and whoever had to distract the said man from picking you up from the grocery mall. You roll your eyes, contemplating if you should just run for it and stop your impatience from increasing the hate you feel for your soulmate. You stop yourself from making another irrational decision and put the five tote bags you clutched with your right hand down on the ground, almost drunk with both the alluring smell of a waffle stand nearby, and the hate-love you felt for Miya Atsumu.

Just as you were about to dial his twin brother, the better twin shows up moving in your peripheral vision. You tilt your head to the side to see more of him, his muscular body, and the broad shoulders he shows off to the people who eyed him with both envy and pride. He jogs toward you, holding the handle of a grey umbrella with his left hand to shield him from the merciless downpour of the rain. 

"Soz', my brother left the house, told me he had some important matters to take care of, and that I should come ta' pick you up instead," 

_Oh._

Your eyes drop from his, down to the ash-grey ground, as you feel your figure shaking in a mixture of anger, confusion, and sadness. Osamu looks at you with his usual deadpanned expression, holding out his hand to take the heavy tote bags, but you can see in his eyes the apologetic and skeptic shine of doubt, sympathy, and shame. 

The rain does not calm down, it has been like that for hours. The volume of the pitter-patter of mother nature's tears seems to increase, as you fall into an inevitable session of a short but melancholic stupor. Your shaking arms move to hug yourself, the heavy groceries bouncing off the flesh of your damp clothed stomach. Osamu takes all of the groceries and gives you the umbrella silently. You take it from him with your shaking right hand, as you walk with him back to his restaurant. 

"I understand, it probably was really important," you give him a faint smile, giving him a taste of your fake positive energy as you shrugged. You mentally guess that whatever you uttered was probably the end of a short conversation because as the wordless atmosphere continues to fill the air, only the sounds of the engines and wheels of the cars that zoom past, the splash of your feet to the forming rain puddles, and of course, the heavy rain that slaps the canopy of the umbrella, like bullets shooting a bulletproof vest, ring in your ears.

The ends of your lips tug up slightly, as you see the glaring lights of the restaurant growing nearer and nearer, flickering in fleeting moments. Despite the smile that plants itself on your lips, you couldn't shake the thought that it was _the coldest night that you have ever experienced._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr - @anayrovi


	2. There Is No Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no rainbow, not even behind the clouds. 
> 
> The ends of your lips curl upwards into a melancholic smile. For you knew that the saying: "I have something important to do", was almost always a lie, especially if it was this late at night.

> _**There is no rainbow, not even behind the clouds.** _

You feel your eyebrows quirking up, looking up from the awning of the restaurant at the thousands and thousands of the tiny lights that litter the navy blue sky. The last customers exit the front door, rubbing the flesh of their stomachs with content smiles on their faces as you look at them with now a lopsided smile that could mean two things: first, you are envious of them because they, the last customers, are possibly soulmates, and they proudly show off their dedication to one another with matching watches and intertwined arms. The details are tiny, so much so that you squint to make sure if they really are matching, and yes, they are.

The scent of the fragrant onigiri wafts through the door to tickle your nose, causing your stomach to rumble and tremor. You hug your stomach, eyes drooping, and lips forming a sad smile. You wonder hard. Hard. Could Atsumu and you be like that, loving each other, wearing something that indicates you were a couple? Both of you showing off to the world that you were happy and content with one another?

You shake your head, walking through the doorway of the front door. There are no prying eyes in the restaurant if it is without customers and only the warm gaze of Osamu hits your frame. Looking around, you relax and stop hugging your stomach as your gaze flits, stops, and zooms on the food Osamu has perched on a tray.

"Bad day?" asks Osamu. He places your favorite onigiri on a table nearest to you. He pats the chair in front of it and turns his back to you to return to his late-night duties. He looks over his shoulder, saying his thanks, "Ya should really rest y'know, ya worked really hard today."

You shrug, heading to the bathroom, "I just want to know where is Atsumu. He doesn't go out _this_ late."

The bathroom door opens with a twist of your wrist and fingers on the doorknob. You slap the switch of the lights and squint as the light bounces off the white walls and attacks your vision with its shining glare. _Osamu said his twin went out to do something important, then could it be something about volleyball?_ _If not, then **what**? Atsumu rarely goes off so late at night, unless..._

You ponder, washing and scrubbing your hands off of any filth before drying them with a tissue and throwing it to the trash bin. The ends of your lips curl upwards into a melancholic smile. For you know that the saying: " _I have something important to do_ ", was almost always a lie, especially if it was this late at night. 

* * *

You haul yourself on the living room loveseat after a hot shower, biting your bottom lip as you feel the blisters formed from the hot shower sting and burn your skin. Perhaps you went too far? Whimpering, your red itching skin rubs against the hard scratchy fabric of the loveseat. You struggle to feel comfortable, but as you soon find a position that wasn't too painful to bring forth absolute hell to you, you still your movements with a loud sigh. 

The phone trapped in your palm rings the pleasant melody of your notification sound. You stare at the lock screen, a picture of him sitting on the white sand beach staring at the camera, with a disconcerting emotion coursing through you, rivalling the emotions of being punch-drunk with love. The brown hooded eyes under his golden yellow fringe stare at you, perhaps even lovingly, that if you aren't hazy in your stupor you would have seen through his eyes that he was looking at a person. And that person was _not_ you. 

His gaze is blocked by the rectangular notifications and messages that await for a response and you hastily remove them one by one to reveal his gaze that matches his quiet and mischievous grin. Although his grin was of love for someone else, yours were of love for him and him only. Your admiring skids to a halt as you hear the faint chime and squeak of the slowly turning doorknob of the door from the restaurant to the living room. 

You hear talking. 

_Click._

The click of a heel, you presume.

A masculine voice chuckles following a _smooch_.

_Atsumu._

Your vision blurs and meets the darkness as you shut your eyes, frantically trying to relax your body, clicking the lock button of your phone to better the theatrical action of feigning sleep. The scent of alcohol reaches your nose and lingers, and you fight the urge of making a disgusted face. Morphing your face somewhat akin to soundless sleep, you even your breath and still your movements like a flowered lily pad in a quiet stream.

The door opens with a loud _bang,_ and it's followed by the shout ofAtsumu's voice, "I'm home!" _,_ and the sound of footsteps is all you hear for a minute, around the loveseat and heading towards upstairs. The movements stop abruptly near where your head rests on the arm of the object that lulls you to both mixed emotions of relaxation and curiosity.

"'Tsumu, who the hell is this?"

Silence ensues for a few moments. Until Atsumu's suave voice plucks a chord in your emotions.

"Oh, _h_ _er_. She's a waitress here, dun really know her that much." 

The two voices purr their words like drunken fools. Slow shuffling reaches your ears, and you fight the urge to let Atsumu's words prick your eyes with tears. The pressure on your chest was painful, either it was the sour fruit of his word or the hot shower that burns your skin, you do not know. You struggle once again to even your breath, a lump in your throat forming as quick as a horse runs through a field, your burning figure quivers under their gazes. 

"I bought two packs for tonight babygirl. Whatcha say, daddy always comes prepared for ya, no?" 

The female voice laughs, and soon enough, the footsteps on the hard and wooden floor disappear into the upstairs. The sounds of the scurrying footsteps echo throughout the well-furnished house. A loud bang of a door follows, startling you, enough to open your eyes. A ring of your phone piques your curiosity, and you pick it up to have a look. 

{ a new message has arrived }

> **Osamu-san** : Did you see him? 

> **YOU** : Yes. He's with a girl. 

> **Osamu-san** : I saw him too. It was the same girl from last week. 

> **YOU** : He has his own place right? Why does he have to bring his business here? 

> **Osamu-san** : I don't have a fucking clue. He's a jerk. That's why. Prolly wants to rub it in your face that he doesn't follow the universe's rules. 

You shut your phone and throw it to your side with a huff of anger, frowning even more at the sound of the thud, bang, and creaking of the bed upstairs. Moaning follows shortly after, and you scrunch your nose in both disgust and envy. Snatching the black earphones from the coffee table beside the loveseat, you put them on and blast the music loud that it was almost deafening. You wonder and wonder, soothing yourself to sleep as tears walk across the valley of your cheeks.

> **YOU** : I can't take it anymore. 

Your thumbs shake in front of the screen as the screen bleeds into a mesh of the whiteness of the screen and the homely colours of the house. You grit your teeth, closing your eyes and letting the tears dance down to group at your chin. The music rings in your ears fierce and loud, your cries are unheard by your own ears. 

Atsumu doesn't like it when he doesn't get what he wants. His resentment for this orderly world is not at all surprising, with such a person like he is, hungry for power, strength, and growth. He strives to be not only that but to also be _different_ as he destroys his want for contentment and replaces it with more greed and hunger. He forgoes the mark engraved on his collarbone, boasting that he follows his own rules, deeming that that this way of living is restricting, like being caged and falsely ensconced into chains.

You bite on the skin between your index finger and thumb to quiet your ugly sobs. _And because of this_ , you think, breathing heavily as the blisters hidden in your hands sting and hurt more intensely now that it was sprinkled with his hurtful words, _he can only_ _hope to catch a glimpse of the rainbow after the rain_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I view Atsumu as someone who doesn't experience "contentment", and if he does, the box of these kinds of feelings is always open and it is gone as soon as he catches it.
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


	3. This Clandestine Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clandestine dusk falls upon the injured clouds. 
> 
> You turn to him, cheeks heating up as you wipe your hands on your stained white apron and you sigh, you couldn't help the wide smile that plants itself on your lips. You reply with an excited hum, "I'd love to, Osamu-san."
> 
> "Just Osamu, please."

> **_The clandestine dusk falls upon the injured clouds._ **

The morning light stabs through the wiped-clean window panes, landing on mahogany tables and chairs. The restaurant opens its doors to the public with the inviting scent of onigiri. The fragrant smell mixes with the atmosphere, giving the customers a whiff of heaven. You smile at the customers who flood the restaurant. The posters that display and advertise the deliciousness luring them. 

You smile, finishing the chore of wiping the tables clean and spotless. You wipe your hands with your apron, walking to the kitchen to get the orders stopping to glance at the restaurant from the cashier's end, smiling at the customers that happily feed themselves. Osamu's gaze shifts to you, as you see him in your peripheral vision. He tilts his head with a smirk. 

"What? Hungry already?" he chides, his eyes closed with a whole-hearted and sincere smile, a rare feat.

You smile back at him and shake your head, "The sun is up, it gives me the energy to smile. These past few weeks have been nothing but rain." 

"Take it easy today, customers are more abundant than usual," he says, each curl of his fingers on your shoulder wiggle on your skin, a gesture to comfort you even if his smile is now non-existent. You grin at him, and he turns back to his duties. 

* * *

During around 2 PM, the customers were lesser than in the morning. Many opted for the take-outs rather than dining in, for fear of another storm falling on the land. Clutching the apron that sticks to the outfit you wore that brings more heat than necessary to your frame, you slump your shoulders and sit on a chair near a table to grasp a little few minutes of rest. 

A young adult woman appears on your vision, and the environment becomes clear again, your gaze zooming in on her frame as she waves with a friendly smile. Her glasses glint under the restaurant lights that gleam with a warmness so unique you could taste it. 

"Hello, I'm Ms. Sato. Yer onigiri is delicious," she says with a little too much vigor. Another waiter arrives on your table in the corner of the restaurant, almost unseen by unfriendly eyes. You tense at both of the waiter and the woman who names herself Ms. Sato, feeling the urge to leave to avoid being reprimanded of slacking, even though you were not, or so you thought. 

You stand up, the chair sliding away from your butt, but a hand on the table stops you from making another move. Ms. Sato stares at you, a wash of pressure shakes your figure, you sit again, this time with a little sprinkle of acquiescence.

"Have ya met your soulmate?" she asks with a gleam on her eyes. The pitch of her voice too high at the end of her question. Her question startles you, tilting your head, your muscles stretching and halting, staring straight at her as she looks back at you with now a smile that screams of happiness. As you judge freely, you are not sure about the reason why she carries a happy aura.

"What's he like?" she adds, her eyes shining up at you, a gleam of expecting you to answer with honey-coated love and lacing affection. _How I wish_ , you think as you sweat nervously in front of her. Thinking about him makes you resent this world, and whoever was responsible for paring you with such an evil spawn. However, when he resides in your thoughts, you embrace him and tell him sweet nothings for him to stay, rooting him in your daydreams.

Before you could answer and shut down her question politely, yet with a bitter intention, she interrupts you. "My soulmate, he's the best. . . ain't met someone like him, he's different, almost as if he don't exist. Because there's no such thing as perfection, ya with me?"

She shrugs, taking a bite of her onigiri, "Delicious!"

"He takes care of me like an angel sent from earth, and when he looks at me, his eyes shine like some newborn person lookin' at the stars for the first time," she grins at you, her eyebrows crinkling, her eyes boring through the wooden table as excited tenderness sketches itself on her face. "He's the best. 'M sorry for my forwardness but, I can't really help my excitement. He might be just proposin' tonight!"

"That's nice to hear," you sweat drop, but genuinely gave a nod of approval. It truly is sweet, and you see the shine on the aura that surrounds her, like the sun patting earth on its head. "I'm sure he is going to be a wonderful husband."

The bubble of jealousy sizzles in your chest, a twinkle on your face covers it well. Your thoughts drift to Atsumu, and the countless girls he has brought home to rub it in your face that he doesn't care that his name is on your skin. _Whatever this is, it isn't healthy,_ you tell yourself. _I have to get out of here, but does leaving here signal that he has won? Is he trying to drive me out of here?_

You mull, unable to comfort your tense body, alone in your thoughts. It was exhausting, like volleyball and chess at the same time. Synchronizing to stab you well in the heart, and then looking and speculating closely to see the expression the action causes. Atsumu is a deviant in this society, and his views will be alien to most but to some that share it. But why do you feel like you're the one who is at fault? Is it because you have revered and loved him to the point that the possibility of him making a mistake makes you claw your skin in retaliation?

_Was he at fault for playing with my feelings? If yes, then why am I enamored of him still?_

Just as she is about to tell you more, a young man arrives at your table, and Ms. Sato's face lights up even more if even such a thing is possible.

"Oh, sorry, I have ta go!" she stands up with haste, waving farewell at you as the young man kisses her rosy cheeks. They exit the door, and you once again slump in your chair. You stare at them, wishing that Atsumu gets to hold you like that, even just once in your lifetime. You want to see his eyes sparkle once again, like before when you first met.

"So, you've met her?"

You turn to see Osamu with a tray on his hands. His hair is glowing, and his eyes pierce into yours. Sleepy eyes to others, but to you, they feel like heaven when striking your frame. You ask, "You know her?"

"Yes. She's friendly, alright. She's called Joyful Joy 'round here." he replies flat and uninterested. "Go back to work now."

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words, trying to calm down your embarrassed beating heart, and you stand up, making your way to the kitchen to carry more orders. When you feel a stare from behind you, you shudder.

"So. . . do ya want to? It's Saturday tomorrow," asks Osamu. The restaurant was still bustling with customers, all laughing and chattering amongst themselves. "It's like a treat. We're friends, aren't we? I'll leave a co-worker to tend 'round here for a lil' bit 'till tomorrow."

_A treat? More like a date._

You turn to him, cheeks heating up as you wipe your hands on your stained white apron and you sigh, you couldn't help the wide smile that plants itself on your lips. You reply with an excited hum, "I'd love to, Osamu-san."

"Just Osamu, please."

* * *

Both of you arrive at a quiet and abandoned theme park lying about on the outskirts of the city. You feel your eyes widen slightly at the scratching and whining of the untouched rides, shrouded in surrounding mist as an eerie silence falls upon the both of you.

"Osamu, why would you take us to such a scary place?" you ask. And for a fleeting moment, you consider the possibility that Osamu can be scheming to kill you or perhaps abandon you in such a haunted place but, you swat down the idea immediately when he turns and offers you a hand. You can only feel warmth under his gaze, even though the cold air strikes your frame.

"There's a spot here somewhere," he says as you feel weak under his touch, his warmth burning your flesh pleasantly. "Ah, there it is!"

He points to a bench on the corner of the theme park with his free open palm. It was old, marred by the harsh weather, old grass surrounding it. But the sunlight spears through the mist and shines down upon it.

You make your way over, following Osamu's lead, the sake set clinking and jingling in the black plastic bag. Another black plastic bag hangs from the long and lithe fingers of Osamu, this one with snacks such as dried squid. You smile slightly to yourself, already bursting with excitement to share the rest of your day with him.

You sit with him on the bench, and for a few seconds, you stare at each other. You chuckle, lifting the black plastic bag and placing them between the two of you. He does the same with his own, laying out the snacks.

"The people must be jealous of me," you start, pouring sake to his cup. "I get to spend time with the Miya Osamu himself. A well-known entrepreneur in all of Japan!"

His lips move to laugh at you, "Please."

 _You stare at each other like you were the only ones in the world_.

"I've been wondering this before, but," you turn to Osamu, holding out your sake cup for him to fill. "Why here? Isn't it a little bit creepy?"

"I haven't any idea, it just calms me down," he broods, looking at the shoes that clothe his feet. "I come here when life is just unbearable, ya know?"

You flit your eyes to the rusting and creaking roller coaster, a bit far from where you sit. It was eerily beautiful, and the mist that surrounds it decorates its haunting design even more. The place was like a secret, a place invisible to a stranger's eyes.

 _It suits Osamu_ , you think, _cold and mysterious yet kind enough to let someone in their life_.

"Aren't ya gonna leave?" he asks, his tone suddenly dark but full of concern despite being half-drunk from the strong sake. "I don't wanna ya to leave here but. . . even though that birdbrain 'Tsumu is yer soulmate don't mean he's worth the pain, ya know."

He says it so slowly as if venturing on a forbidden path. If it were anyone, it would have irked you, but it was Osamu, and every time you are with him, you are in heaven. Osamu's voice coated in his unique euphony, drifting through the light and airy atmosphere, and you love hearing it.

You sigh, "I know. But. . . "

Tears prick your eyes, your breath hitching, and your frame quivers. You breathe in the fresh air that the nearby trees deliver to your nose, the dried squid mixing to give it an additional tickle. Your throat nurses the lump that threatens to burst.

"Why do ya even stay?" he slurs, and you are about to give in to the alcoholic drink too as your vision sways and bleeds into the assortment of green and brown grass that protrudes from the damp soil.

"Because I saw it in his eyes, Osamu! His eyes sparkled when. . . he looked at me for the first time. I know that he loves me. . . he just denies it! Because that's what he is!" you give in and cry to the unmoving theme park. "He's a fucking jerk. . . but I- I love him so much."

 _You love him so much that it hurts_.

* * *

You fall to the bed, hazy with lust, shuddering at the hands that roam your naked body. From your drunken stupor, you see Osamu's toned and handsome figure, going down further to breathe and bite harshly on your neck. He starts from the spot below your ear, and to your collarbone, his tongue lapping and kissing with his hot, open mouth.

He removes his remaining clothes, tossing them to the abyss of the closed dark room, only illuminated by the open window that stares out to the field. You see eyes skimming your form, writhing, and full of sin. The musky and earthy smell of sake wafting through the air and inhaled in sharp breaths.

Osamu kisses you, hot and dizzying, and you fall to the spell of your sexual desire, wrapping your arms around his neck. His black and natural hair cold and dark, messy as you tangle your fingers in it, overwhelming your senses even more as his open eyes look down at you, almost lovingly.

When he reaches down and inserts his cock in your hole, you let out a loud moan, full of pleasure and pain. And soon enough, the discomfort bleeds into profound and mind-boggling pleasure, stilling your movements as you twitch, twinkle, and tingle.

The heat and sweat that sticks like a second skin are suffocating, and exhilarating, the loud thrum of your heartbeat racing with your breath.

 _Whatever this is, it is wrong_.

You tell yourself as he pushes and pulls into you with his punishing and brutal thrusts. He groans, kneading your breasts, squeezing your waist, exchanging pants, and heavy stares. You moan and scream, clawing at his back, feeling his breath and his sweat on your neck. Your toes curl, but before you could orgasm, he stops and lifts you by the waist.

_But why does it feel so right?_

He sits up on the bed, guiding your exhausted thighs to either side of his hips. And you sheathe yourself down to squeeze his cock tight, unwanting on letting him go. And you start riding him, the strain of the muscles in your thighs forgotten by the pleasure that takes over your senses as you look at him in his eyes, blown wide with desire.

As you reach your high, your squinting gaze travels to the open window that lets you see the illuminating yet fading clandestine dusk, the clouds scattering, dark, and hiding the shining stars. You welcome the fruit of Osamu's lust, biting your lip, squeezing his shoulders with your hands, preventing your quivering mouth from screaming your soulmate's name.

 _And you fall with the sun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dusk is the fall into the darkness of the night. 
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


	4. The Longing for the Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The abandoned theme park is quiet, eerie as if sympathizing with the scene in front of them. You fail to hear the creak and scratch of rusted metal, for the thrum of your heart booms loudly in your ears. You don't answer, mouth screwing shut. There is no sun, only the moon, and the stars were hiding behind the heavy clouds. 
> 
> The moon is right beside you, behind you, in front of you. . . yet you long for the sun and its light.

> **_The lonely clouds long for the warm sunlight._ **

The cold air of the air conditioner circulates through the room, hitting your body that lies still and tense under the overwhelming pleasure. Osamu thrusts and plows, buried deep into you, sweat falling from his eyebrows to his toned and chiseled chest. His hands grip your hands on either side of your head, and you feel the cotton fabric of the pillow digging and sticking on your sweaty skin.

You wail and scratch your nails on his hands. His cock brushes and rams in every right spot as he looks at you with those heady grey eyes of his, full of lust, almost _violent_. The familiar clenching in your lower stomach shoots the electricity of your orgasm, coiling, and letting go. You scream at the otherworldly sensation, vision blocking out for a second, Osamu's white and hot cum coating your walls, his mouth opening to produce a loud mixture of a growl and a groan.

He collapses onto you, burying his head on the crook of your neck. You exchange pants and heavy breaths with him, the fatigue washing over your body, your muscles straining, and your head throbbing from the sake. You look around, eyes blurry, stinging with exhaustion as if poured with bleach. You notice the dim light of the moonless sky from the window before succumbing to your fatigue.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking it.

You jolt awake, sitting up abruptly. You see Osamu with a gray long-sleeved shirt, boxers from under his white apron. Your eyes widen at the tray he is holding, full of your favorite breakfast.

You give him a playful smile, "I didn't know the Osamu Miya is actually sappy!"

He frowns at you, his eyes glinting with mischief, "Oh, you don't want 'em? Then don't mind if I do!" You stand up on your knees, almost immediately to stop his movements, giggling.

"Why not just eat it with me?" you ask, giving him a shrug as you fix the fringe on his forehead with your left hand. You stare at his eyes, and the world stops. His hands set the tray down on the futon, the utensils jingling, the glass clinking, and he sits down to look at you eye-level. He doesn't break the eye contact, his hand coming to caress your cheek. He leans in fast, and you close your eyes under the bliss of his kiss.

Your mouth moves against his, synching, basking in the peaceful moment. The dawn is slowly bleeding into the morning, sunless, and cloudy. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he pushes you down to the futon, kissing down from your lips to your neck.

"Aa. . . hn. . . Osamu, stop, let's eat breakfast first," you slur and giggle, pushing his head away with your hands. Your head throbs, the room spinning, the fruit of your foolishness with sake, and the activities from last night surfacing and hitting your frame and mind, too strong for your liking. The bile sizzles in your stomach, but you breathe slowly to stop the vomit that climbs itself upon your esophagus.

You eat with Osamu in silence, with him sneaking in sweet and delicate forehead kisses, pulling you close to his warm embrace.

The sky is a smooth dull grey, sunless, smothering the area with its melancholic mood. However, the arena is packing with people, some staying and some leaving. The match between EJP Raijin and MSBY Black Jackals finishes with a loud round of applause, and thus more people are lining up the stalls for take-outs. Under the heat of the sun, you sweat, bringing a handkerchief and wiping the liquid that cascades down from your temple to your cheeks.

You continue to prepare, as several people line up behind the stall, Osamu listing their orders in a little notepad. He's nodding with a soft smile on his face, greeting his former classmates and teammates who wave and exchange small conversations with him. He emits the most pleasant aura you have ever seen in him. He looks just so beautiful and happy, yet quiet and calm.

 _He is truly like the moon_.

"EJP Raijin. . . you have former teammates there right, Osamu?" you ask him, placing the last of the onigiri trays in boxes to deliver them back to the restaurant.

He twinkles proudly, crossing his arms, "Yes. 'Twas good to talk to them again."

You wonder if Osamu secretly wishes to be a professional volleyball player like his twin and if he regrets a part or even everything of his business. But knowing him, you shake your head, his passion for his career is too adamant and unbreaking for him to think like that.

"'Tsumu'll be goin' home with us, so let's wait for him," he shrugs, leaning on the counter. You walk closer to him and lean with him, your shoulder brushing his. You move towards him closer, basking in the intimacy, when he whispers something to your ear, "I'll take ya ta heaven again when we go home."

You reminisce the night before—the night when you gave yourself to him. A part of you wishes that instead of Osamu, it was Atsumu instead. You recall the sweet dusk bleeding into the night as you lulled to sleep yesterday. There was a strong desire for Atsumu, for him to hold you in his arms, to make love to you, and you aren't sure if it rivals your affection for Osamu.

You feel your cheeks heating up, moving away from him as you shift your weight from one leg to another, "Osamu, how naughty!"

"Says the one who kept screamin' last night. Beggin' me for more when we already had five rounds," he whispers. His smooth and deep voice hits you on the right spots, heat pooling in between your thighs. You bite your lips, flustered.

You move away from him and look at him directly in the eyes, sleepy but half-lidded with lust swimming in his irises. You are about to say something, but you stop when you see Atsumu walking towards the stall, with his bag dangling from his left shoulder. His golden yellow hair shining under the lights glares at you, his signature mocking grin planting itself on his lips. Only a few people linger the area, but if you squint enough, you can see them gawking at the presence he exudes.

You feel your heart thrumming faster and faster, cheeks heating up, and you turn away from the sight that snatches away your adoration and love for him.

He arrives at the stall, tapping the counter lightly to capture Osamu's attention. However, he turns to you with a smirk, "Aye, princess, didn't expect ya to be here. Did you come to watch yer soulmate? Hmm?" He says it so casually, and even when you listen carefully, you never taste any love nor care, behind his eyes, accent, anything. _Nothing_. Except perhaps, _pity_.

He rounds the corner and approaches you, snatching your hands that hug your stomach to grip his warm palms. He flashes a smile after kissing the back of your knuckles, "How was I? I'm the best setter, right?" Even his gestures are empty, yet hot, and it _burns_ you.

"'Tsumu," Osamu's voice is dark, almost _angry_.

Your hands drop to your sides, taking a step back. Atsumu frowns, turning, narrowing his eyes at his twin, "What? Did I do somethin' wrong? Geez, 'Samu, ya look so angry. Was just sayin' hello ta the love of my life."

Your heart clenches at his words. You relish his cloying 'affection', wishing even just for a second or moment, that it rings true and warms your feelings, instead of stabbing them over and over. You wilt at your thoughts, suddenly losing interest to utter any word to stop their unnecessary bickering. You wonder if his words hold any ounce of the truth of his feelings.

Until finally, Osamu sighs and shrugs, "Let's go home."

_And Atsumu, the sun._

Osamu removes your clothes one by one, gifting you long, deep and hot kisses after every article. You moan in his mouth, caressing and rubbing his nape slowly, reaching up and tangling your hands in his dark locks. He moves away to remove his shirt.

You move with him, ridding himself of his pants, hasty—impatient. You wrap your arms around his waist, tugging him to the bed. Your gaze flits to his half-lidded eyes, blinking and shining under the dim sunlight that goes through the open window. You fall and lie on the futon, completely naked and bare under his gaze.

He removes his boxers, his cock springing up, slapping his toned stomach. It twitches, precum forming its head. You breathe, heavy and shaking—looking at it with hungry eyes, running your tongue along your lower lip with lust that wreck your ability to think. He lowers himself down, his face burying on your chest, sucking and licking at your nipples. The pleasure courses through you, and you don't resent it. You welcome it with love and desire of your own.

You think he looks ethereal with those hazy eyes, the calm sunset forming intricate shadows on his face, his fringe complimenting his glow and aura. You can never resist him, and you don't, even when the sake is out of your system and his. 

Then.

He eyes the mark under your left breast, stopping. And you see the gleam of hesitation in his eyes. _He never stopped during that night, for his mind was full of a drunken man's confidence_ , you think, _just like me_.

Your eyebrows quirk up in worry, but before you can voice your concern, he speaks, "Are ya sure about this?" His gaze never leaves the mark, and your heart thrums and clenches at the croak of his voice. You hesitate too, though short-lived as you sit up, and cradle his cheeks on your hot palms.

Tears start to brim his eyes, and you kiss him to silence him. After a long minute, he continues his actions of lust and love for you. You return his vigor, and his feelings, even though your heart thuds for another.

Under the throes of pleasure, you never fail to notice his skin, _clear_ and _void_ of any mark.

"What are we?" Osamu asks in a wondering tone, though full of pain. He tilts his head as he sits on the metal bench, legs open, arms resting on his thighs as he leans forward.

You turn away from him to hide your tears, putting a hand on your mark under your left breast, caressing it slowly, thoughtfully.

The abandoned theme park is quiet, eerie like sympathizing with the scene in front of it. You fail to hear the creak and scratch of rusted metal, for the thrum of your heart booms loudly in your ears. You don't answer, mouth screwing shut. There is no sun, only the moon, and the stars are hiding behind the heavy clouds.

The moon is right beside you, behind you, in front of you. . . yet you long for the sun and its light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soulmate can never really forget his/her other half. He/She can never let go, no matter how much he/she wants to. 
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


	5. The Scent of Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red. Everything you see is red like the blood that discharges from the wounds of your forearm, the handle of the knife—the knife that pierces it, and the tiled floors of the bathroom that is tainted with the thick liquid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! > Please DO NOT disregard the tags (especially the warning ones such as self-harm and suicidal thoughts), because I definitely DID NOT put them in there for fun.

> **_The scent of petrichor tickles the cement._ **

****

Your head rests on Osamu's shoulder, looking at the dark purple sky, no clouds, the moon shining, and nestling itself among the constellations. You mull, eyes heavy with exhaustion, gaze flitting to the plastic wrappers of food and snacks, a half-empty jug of juice, and scattered crumbs that lie on the picnic blanket.

Osamu decides to break the silence. "Yer really leaving, aren't cha?"

You shrug, moving from his shoulder to his lap. You look up at him with unsure eyes, secretly wishing that he doesn't think your gestures are empty, for it is to comfort him, or even tell him you are resentful of your actions.

"I'm not going to choose any of you, 'Samu," you answer with a sad smile. You run your fingers through his hair. "I think it's the wisest choice, so far. I'm leaving for Tokyo tomorrow, as I have told you many times now." You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying, your hands ruffling his hair to soothe him and maybe, soothe even yourself.

 _He is agitated,_ you think. You study his expression. _He would be, but I didn't expect this much since he was, after all, the one who encouraged me to leave everything behind. I'm sorry, Osamu, I do love you but . . ._

You sit up, moving to clean and tidy the mess on the picnic blanket. Osamu moves with you, helping you. The cool breeze of the 9 PM night hits your face, closing your eyes to savor the sweet scent of the trees that surround you. Your heart is clenching at the thought of leaving Hyogo for good, pondering about the theme park, the onigiri Osamu makes. But you understand that you must move on and away. It brings you to hurt more than happiness, after all. The boulders on your chest have become harder to endure. It is painful, clawing at your heart, and for now, you have to decide or, you will die of heartbreak. This wretched universe takes the life out of those who dwell in heartbreak for too long.

You curse the universe once again, cursing the mark etched on your skin, cursing the laws that keep you chained. You wonder if it was Osamu, not Atsumu, who is your soulmate. There are some instances when soulmates are not at all compatible with one another. Some are even friends or just relatives. Yet, you can't forget Atsumu, for you are bound, by the heart and the soul.

You relish the scent, the quiet chatter of the people, and the smooth piano music playing throughout the cafe. The delicious aroma of cakes and coffee wafting through the air snatching a shudder from you. You sit on a chair in front of a table nearest to the window, looking at the sunless sky. The clouds are scattering, smothering the area with a drizzle.

Your chest feels heavy as you look around, your stomach trembling in hunger, eyes exhausted as if you wrote a thousand-word essay late at night with no sleep and no caffeine running through your system. The waiter gets your order, flashing you a wink before leaving. You ponder about the time, the months that passed after Atsumu left you waiting, angry, and on the brink of crying in front of a shop.

Your thoughts turn to the three weeks after you slept with Osamu, then to the moment, you had to end it with a bitter halt. Your eyes glare at the table, nails scraping the wood, angry at your soulmate, but more upset at yourself. Your mind is at war between thoughts, rational and irrational, feelings, and logic.

You think about the encounter last night with Osamu, and your thoughts race about the croak of his voice, the scrunching of his nose, and the eyes that avert your gaze to hide the pain he hides so well. You reminisce about his kiss that he planted on your lips for the last time when the stars were hiding behind the clouds, when you felt his hands caressing your waist with such care you cry during the moments he wrapped his arms around you. You squirm on your seat, remembering about the bitter words you spat out that it just wasn't the same for you because, for you, there was no twinkle _at all_.

 _Leaving is the best option._ You smile to yourself. _I will get out of here soon and leave everything behind_.

In the midst of averting your eyes from the main entrance, you hear the jingle and opening of the door. The air conditioner is blasting, but what makes you shiver is when you turn your head to the door once again, you see Atsumu looking at you with those intense yet relaxing eyes of his, his golden yellow fringe decorating his warm grin. He is alone, a wallet in hand, a casual outfit, and his eyes land on you.

He smiles at you, before walking towards. . .

_No. No. NO. I don't want HIM near me._

For you knew how damaging he could be, especially to the walls you have built and to the decisions that you have made.

You rage in your mind, thoughts coming to a halt, your heart throbbing for the sight before you, hot cheeks turning away from him. _Out of all times_ , you think, exasperated, _why now?_

Before he arrives at the table, the waiter gives your order, and you see him sliding a little paper under the mug of your beverage. You look at it thoughtfully, and he flashes a last wink before leaving for the cashier. Your gaze flits back to the evil spawn, head tilting, as his eyes abandon your frame and stare at the back of the waiter, almost glaring at it, though for only a fleeting moment.

You tilt your head as he sits on the chair, sliding forward under the table. He places his right elbow on the table, resting his jaw on his palm, looking at you with a smirk.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me? I don't think I invited you here."

"Yeah, yeah, but still, wouldja mind?" he questions with a wave of his free hand.

"Yes. I would."

"Oh come on, prince-"

"Don't call me that."

He clears his throat loudly, but not enough to catch the attention of the other customers. "I just wanted to have a lil chat with my pretty soulmate."

"Am I really your soulmate though? Well, yes, I am. But are you treating me like one?" you ask, tilting your head as you lift your ordered beverage to your mouth. There is no point in arguing with a mind much like Atsumu's. His pride and stubbornness consume him as a snake wrapped tightly on its prey. However, his cunning and strategic mind, sometimes even reaching psychological manipulation, enhances his character so well that even though you knew he is a horrible person, you can't help but fall for him. _This cursed world_ , you slap yourself as you drown in your thoughts.

He smiles, and it tugs at your heart. Your heart pounds at the sight of him smiling, so _sincerely_. It is as if his words are not empty anymore. He looks down at the table, but his smile is still there, and his hands are under the table's wood, so you cannot see them.

"I know, I'm horrible. I probably am the most horrible soulmate ever, but. . . just for today, can we spend some genuine time together without going after each other's throat?" Atsumu flashes you a wink. He grins from ear-to-ear, and you see his eyes. . . _shining_.

"Impossible," you snicker, rolling your eyes at his silly idea. "What makes you think both of us can hold a proper conversation after all of the things you have done to me?"

"Things I have done to you?" he asks, tilting his head. "I remember none."

You huff, averting your eyes from him to compose yourself. Indeed, he is right, for he never promised you anything, Atsumu has never courted you, he has never displayed affection to you before. You have brought this upon you, you have stayed here for you firmly believed there was still hope. That maybe he will learn to love you, that he will realize his feelings. You refused to leave before because you clutched at the thin threads that connect you to him. For after you leave Hyogo, those threads will sever. But now, you laugh at the foolishness you let yourself drown in.

You agree, though reluctant. You brush away the hair from your face as you exchange conversation with Atsumu, drinking from the hot liquid that caresses your throat, just like his hands that hold yours, his mouth opening to talk about volleyball and his friends.

 _Staying doesn't sound so bad, now_ , you think, nodding at his responses.

It is midnight when the temperature is freezing. Everything is silent, and the streets are empty, the highways' population only the cars that zoom at a slow speed. You walk through the hallways of Osamu's house, feeling the warm air slapping your frame with the slightest of touches, and when you pass through Atsumu's old room, you stop.

You hear the shouting of Osamu, and then . . . Atsumu. You turn on your heel and press your ear on the thin wooden door.

"What the fuck are ya talkin' about?" shouts Atsumu.

"She loves ya, 'Tsumu! Why can't ya drill that to yer mind? At least don't keep her hopes up!"

"Then why doesn't she fuckin' leave then? She's the one keepin' her own hopes up 'Samu!"

"Don't ya love her? Even just a little bit?"

Silence ensues. Osamu speaks again.

"Wha- What?! 'Tsumu!? Where the fuck are ya goin'?! If you don't do anythin' soon, she'll leave!"

There are a few moments of silence, and you wait with a hand covering your mouth, trying to still your breaths, and mask your shock and panic at the twins fighting. You have seen them fight, but not to this extent. Atsumu speaks again, his voice is loud and booming, and you cower in fear at his temper.

"So, yer plannin' on using me so that she gets to stay here?! Bullshit, 'Samu, I never knew ya were this desperate! You might as well be her soulmate!"

"I'm much more of a soulmate to her than ya!"

You hear footsteps walking closer to the door, and then your breath hitches. You turn your heel and remove your shoes, running barefoot back to where you came from, covering your mouth, refusing to let out even the sound of a whimper.

Red. Everything you see is red like the blood that discharges from the wounds of your forearm, the handle of the knife—the knife that pierces it, and the tiled floors of the bathroom that is tainted with the thick liquid. You hiss in pain, biting your lip to stop your whimpering, dropping the knife on the floor. It sounds a silent _clang_ , ringing throughout the tiled walls, ringing in your ears.

Your eyes brim with tears, falling to your red and flushed cheeks. You begin to wail, covering your mouth to silence your cries, you don't feel the pain of your wounds, yet you feel the exhaustion and the blame you cast to yourself. Like the cherry blossoms that fall to the soil, your tears fall to the blood-stained floor, the drops mixing with the thick deep liquid—splattering and spreading in minuscule drops.

You wail again, this time louder, yet weaker, and croaking. The dry throat that spouts out your words is rusty and rough. Your nails scratch at your wounds, and you cry at the pain, at your faults, at yourself. You sob, like the waterfall that harasses and slaps the peaceful river below, knees digging on the floor, bruising, and molding your skin to lines and shapes.

You ponder about Osamu and his eyes that stare at your frame. He is stifling in a sob, a hand clutching the fabric near his heart. _He doesn't deserve this. It's all my fault. I'm not better than a horrible person. I kept his . . . I kept his hopes up. For if it weren't for me, I wouldn't have strained his relationship with his twin._

_I kept his hopes up._

And your thoughts move to Atsumu, with a girl, hand in hand. But you see his eyes, empty. . . not shining. . . empty. You begin to think that if there was any chance at all, that his eyes only shine for yours. And you look at his lips that hesitate to move when you ask about his feelings, his true ones, his pride and stubbornness screaming at your face.

_I wouldn't have. . ._

Drowning in your raging and self-loathing mind, you muster the courage to drag your feet down on the ground, pushing yourself up with your trembling calves. You palm at your injured forearm, a futile attempt to stop the pain and bleeding.

_For if it weren't for me,_

You move under the shower head, the gleam of the blood on your fingertips staining the metal handle of the shower valve. The cold liquid stabs your skin, over and over, even hitting the lines of despair on your forearm, and you hiss but, you accept the pain. You clean yourself, sloppily—and the bleeding doesn't stop.

_I wouldn't have strained his relationship with his twin._

The soap that coats your skin stings it even more. And you cry the last jug of your liquid emotions.

Your lips tremble, letting out a hacking cough. Your vision is shaky, and your legs are wobbly like the noodles you ate for lunch, the towel clings to your wet skin. The burning and searing pain of your wounds rival your thoughts that run over one another like starved humans fighting over a scrap of bread.

_If only I was never born, maybe Atsumu would get paired with another, one who would treat him right, and one who deserves him and his attention._

Your thoughts occupy you, clutching and poisoning your mind with words that stab your emotions again and again, and you don't hear the metal creak of the doorknob. And only you feel hands that shake your shoulders. You snap out of your haze but, you regret it when the dizziness stabs you again, your breathing rapid and fast. The claws of self-blame digging its nails in your breaking skin, snatching you away from the glow of the sun and moon.

_If only I was never born. . ._

Dark splotches start to fill your vision, but before you faint in the never-ending void of darkness, you hear the voice of Atsumu calling your name with a flutter of profanities. His irises are shining yet concerned, his hands gently ghosting over your wet skin—but his smell stands out, for when he bends his body forward to you, you take a sniff of his scent that tickles your nose.

_Maybe Atsumu would get paired with another?_

You give one final shudder before succumbing to your exhaustion—remembering the visions of the first rain after a long period of dry weather, you. . . stomping on the concrete while cursing your choice of footwear, the merciless downpour attacking the roof you take shelter under, _the scent of petrichor tickling your nose_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first proper encounter with Atsumu! 
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


	6. The Solace of the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His features blind you almost, yet you find comfort in his eyes that shine whenever he looks at you, and when he bathes under the sun's radiance, he is an angel sent from the lofty heavens above.

> **_The solace of the morning hugs tight around the wounded void._ **

  
When the morning sun's filtered light enters the room, you sit up on the couch in sticking cold sweat, breathing heavy, and abrupt. You stare at the open weave bandages that wrap around your arms and hands, tilting your head in confusion, throat dry, and eyes stinging from the tears that now cling to your cheeks, dry and forgotten.

Your eyes skim the loveseat, nose sniffing the air freshener that lingers among the little waves of unmoving air. You gasp, muffled, when you see Atsumu, your soulmate, sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the edge of the loveseat with closed eyes and even breath. He's sleeping, arms crossed in front of his chest, his biceps peaking out, and you bite your lip to forget about your admiring and focus on matters that call for urgency.

You think, ' _Is he actually. . . drunk?_ '

You sniff around him. He smells like the forest, like the river that flows through it like blood, and the pine trees that flock around it. When you lean back and brush your arms on the rough and unfriendly fabric of the loveseat, you wince in pain and bite your lower lip to prevent any note of noise to come out.

The memories of last night stab your mind on repeat, and you utter a sound of surprise when you rip away the bandages and see the wounds that dry and wrinkle. You halt in your movements, caressing the stinging wounds with rapid breathing, swinging your legs to the floor, and avoiding his body to walk with slow steps to the bathroom. The decision to leave in silence and with haste is all too sweet. The sheer hope that everything that had transpired is a dream thought by the overseer.

In your misfortune, you halt once again when you hear the creak of the loveseat. Your ears ring as your heartbeat springs at a rapid pace.

Atsumu's voice calling your name rings in your ears, "What ya doing? Y-ya should rest."

The unfamiliarity of his voice full of concern wrecks the beating of your heart, and you relish his tone when his cruel and cold suaveness is absent. When he stutters, you turn to him, "What did you to me, you evil spawn?"

"Ya have the nerve to speak ta me like that when I'm the one who treated ya," he says, frowning at your words. He silences you with that sentence, mouth opening and closing again, preventing your mouth from letting out any remark that would resemble your ungratefulness.

Sighing, he stands from the floor, rubbing his butt with his large hands as if it was sore. You take a step back, "T-thank you?"

He chuckles, fixing his golden-yellow hair as he turns to you, "Yer welcome, sweetheart."

You give him a gaze of detached gratitude, before sitting on the couch to further avoid the awkwardness standing there with your mouth gaping open. The world seems to close in with the two of you, and you are aware of the silence of the kitchen, the peaceful morning that envelops the two of you when you stare at his eyes that stare back at you. His eyes were shining like the water that shines under comets and stars, swimming in affection. When he bites his lip, it is almost as if he is in forbidden _denial_. A denial alienated by the universe, full of pride and littering with chins high.

The best you can do during this situation is to spring up a conversation, yet you do not know what or which. The events from last night are nauseating to even think about, and all you remember is his scent of petrichor after the first summer rain and his voice that flutter a string of profanities at the sight of you, bloody, wet, and wounded. A wounded body, a wounded soul, and wounded emotions that are proven by the tears that dry resting on your cheeks. The weather is beautiful, and the sun boasts its shine to the humans that wake under it. You conclude that this is not a great subject to talk about, for the hard-headed Atsumu would frown and laugh at the miserable attempt of showing your talent in conversation.

He sighs again, "Do ya want some food? I'll ask 'Samu."

You shrug, responding to him with a look of 'do whatever you want', and turning away from his gaze to look at the space of the loveseat, palming your hot and flushed cheeks to hide from him. Atsumu leaves after a moment you feel his eyes leave you, closing the door that leads to the kitchen behind him.

Now that Atsumu's eyes had landed on your vulnerable frame and reserve, the earth can only wonder what he will do now. Will he further feed his pride with the fuel that your love for him has shown him a delicate side of love, full of pain, meandering into nothingness, and thirst? Or will he kill it with the fire of your affection? Hungry for love from the soulmate, as the rules of this universe, make it clear. However, would he love you out of pity? Pity is the most shameful option that ever dawns on the moment you scream at yourself in your mental room.

With a distant heart, you paint yourself with the thoughts of packing up, leaving Hyogo for good, and running to Tokyo. You try to convince yourself that you wouldn't run because of the problems, but because of the endless pain that this town brings you. For perhaps if you never see Miya Atsumu again, you would finally have peace and find love within unmarked people. Clear of any name on their skin, or perhaps with people like you who are unfortunate enough to be marked with someone they do not like, at all, even though falling in love with them proves to be dangerous. But then again, falling in love with someone is littering with pain, danger, and risk. Or, could it be that it is like this that people try it over and over again? For them to experience it or to boast to their friends?

Though few, people such as those roam the highways, attend concerts, read in a library, as most people do. Though estranged to most, rarely accepted, aliens to society. Not hated upon, just strangers and foreign. You think about Osamu for he is one of those people, remembering the time your eyes skimmed his naked and flushed body, void of any mark.

You hear the door open, and in comes the yelling of the twins, yet again. The world blesses you with a headache while you listen to their brotherly banter.

"I can handle it ya bird brain!" Osamu shouts from the kitchen, while Atsumu is hurriedly closing the door behind him, a tray of your favorite food balancing on his lithe setter fingers. Osamu stops the door from progressing any further into closing, his foot protruding from the tiny space between the door and the door frame.

Atsumu sighs, "I can handle it myself, I dun need yer help!"

Osamu frowns at him, but he stops when his eyes fall upon you, sitting on the loveseat with your bare and injured forearm on display. You hide them behind you before he blinks again. He pushes the door open, much to Atsumu's dismay. Osamu doesn't take the tray and instead rushes to you with his eyes wide with worry.

When he arrives, he grabs the forearms hidden behind you, caressing them, and then turning to you, "Why would ya do this? Are you hearing me? Answer me!"

You wince at the tone of his voice, and it is quivering, croaking, full of despair. He turns to Atsumu, "What happened? What the hell happened last night?"  
  
  


You knew before that when Atsumu opens his mouth, he was bound to get interrupted by his disturbed and worrying twin. And now, when things are clear to Osamu, you scream with a croaking tone to Atsumu, "How can you do that? You could have at least told me you had no interest in me. Why did you keep my hopes up? Why, Atsumu?!"

Does it have something to do with his pride? With his point of view regarding the ever cruel concept of soulmates? That when one is too prideful in the relationship, one can only hope a happy ending nestles?

Then again, what is love in this world when one is bound to one another, permanent, unchanging, and stubborn, solidified with a mark on the skin?

Atsumu remains silent, cradling his head on his palms as if he is holding his thoughts together, or perhaps he is not even thinking at all. Besides, for a man like him, the concept of soulmates is lost. He has alienated it from him, and from the principles he possesses. At least, that is what he likes you to believe. And the foolishness of yours thinks that there is one ounce of love from him for you.

He responds with a solemn voice, "I don't know."

He leaves the room, and you are both speechless and full of disdain for him. Yet you cannot deny the love that festers within you. Your mouth learns to deny it, and your actions have, as well. However, your mind cannot learn. It cannot learn to hate him, and it cannot learn to _deny_ him. You accept that it is your fault, for you have been foolish enough to believe in him when he gifted you such little signs of mutual pining. And at that moment, maybe you let him go, for you cannot bear for him to love you out of pity. But it is not enough—it is not enough to make you feel whole and happy. You are still numb, wilting.

You wither in Osamu's arms, the song of hope long forgotten in your mind.  
  
  


* * *

A month after that is a day after a full moon, and when you sit on the bench near the abandoned theme park again, it creaks out its age—wet and antique. You let the water damp your clothes, and you sniff the grass' fragrance, hearing the soft breathing of Atsumu beside you. It isn't his twin with you in this theme park, rather, it is him. It is your soulmate, your one and only, and you can only hope he feels the same when he has given you more than enough reasons to be in love with him.

The clouds are abundant in the sky, and they part to make way for the sun to shine down on the both of you and the nature that it holds dear. His features blind you almost, yet you find comfort in his eyes that shine whenever he looks at you, and when he bathes under the sun's radiance, he is an angel sent from the lofty heavens above.

You eat with him, exchanging pleasant conversations, some small and some deep. You don't mention anything about your affections to him, for all you know is that you are showering in the bliss of the love of your life—especially when he smiles at you, and this time it is not mocking, nor coated in his pride. It is genuine, happy, and the sounds that come from it that blow in your ears are never-ending dreams of pure love.

When you place your palms on his hot and soft cheeks, he leans in and captures your lips for his, silencing any false protests. And perhaps he tastes the forgiveness that coats your tongue, and the love you have with the lips you use to kiss him.

When both of you part ways, you look through your phone and notice a new message from Osamu. You tilt your head before clicking on it, waiting for the bus to arrive, the moon high up in the sky, the theme park creaking loudly behind you.

> **'Samu** : Where are you?

> **You** : Just going home. I was at the abandoned theme park.

> **'Samu** : With who?

> **You** : Atsumu.

His text bubble appears and disappears for a few times, before finally replying to your message with a short answer.

> **'Samu** : Okay then.

You raise an eyebrow at his dry message, and you type the words on your mind.

> **You** : What's with the dry message? Anyway, I don't think I'll leave Hyogo now.

His text bubble once again appears and disappears several times.

> **'Samu** : That's great to hear. Seems like Atsumu's getting around. :)

You frown at the smiley emoticon at the end, for Osamu never uses emoticons unless he is happy, or mad, or sad. It is one of the three, or usually, when it is not the case, it is there with no reason at all. You have put too much thought into the idea of not leaving for Tokyo, for your mind hopes more and more that everything will be better. Now that things are going well with Atsumu. And in one way or another, you had to break the news to him. He must be disconcerted, or unnerved, for he is the one who encouraged you to leave Hyogo.

_'To leave everything behind. Even Atsumu. Even me.'_

His words ring in your mind.

You do not reply to his message, getting on the bus on the way home. You think about Atsumu, who has gone ahead to run errands for the restaurant, and for once, you finally believe the words that come out of his mouth. _'It is nothing but the truth'_ , you reason with yourself. After a year of meeting him, you trust the words that come out of his mouth. The mouth that you have always doubted. The mouth that you have always wanted to feel with your lips.

You brush your lips with the tips of your fingers, still feeling the kiss you had shared with him earlier when the sun was shining upon the both of you. The warmth of his palms on your waist, pulling you closer to his frame. When you leaned and accepted his embrace with all of your heart, he smothered you into the waltz of his spell and enveloped you so tight that you felt the solace of the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Atsumu is redeeming himself already? Or not yet? Thank you for reading! The next chapter is next week's latest! Please don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts, I love reading comments! 
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


	7. The Remains of Careful Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is too familiar.
> 
> You curse once again the choice of your footwear, stomping on the rain puddles in front of you. You step under the terror of the rain for a moment. It is familiar. The sight, the atmosphere, the impatience. Even the glow of the store behind you. And the hot handles of the bags of groceries around your weary fingers, and you, waiting like a sitting duck.

> **_The thin threads of careful love are severed._ **

The best you can do is to remain silent when you find yourself trapped between the sculpted bodies of the brothers, feeling the loveseat on your butt, and your eyes glued to the abundance of food and snacks that lie silent on the table in front of you. The television is displaying Japan's Netflix, the tons of movies, and shows moving by the work of a remote. You try to scoot away from both brothers. Even after your escapades with Atsumu yesterday, your movements hesitate around him, and his actions mirror yours. They give you the amount of space you need, even Atsumu.

The television plays a movie both you and Osamu like, yet Atsumu does not hesitate to let his opinion known, "I dun like this movie."

"Have you watched it yet?" you ask.

"No."

"Then watch it."

"But I don't wanna."

"Suck it up, 'Tsumu," it was Osamu's time to remark. "Either this or I'll throw ya out."

Atsumu silences himself when he hears Osamu speak, and you chuckle at the gesture. It seems even the hard-headed twin can get afraid of his brother, no matter how stubborn, prideful, and confident he is in his manners and his nature. He raises an eyebrow at you, his hands crossing on his chest, careful as to not touch even a single hair of you. You give him a playful frown, a hand coming from your lap to caress his golden yellow locks that you dream of kissing and kissing until it fades to its color of natural black.

You have learned to forgive him, after all. You don't tell him this, and you probably never will, but you hope that he sees the forgiveness you give him in the actions you bestow. And to your surprise, he leans in to accept your affection. H places a hand on your cheek to rub it with soothing rubs with the pads of his fingers. It is as if he heard your forgiveness, and is now showering under it.

And maybe, you hesitate with the affection in your movements when you hear Osamu's throat clearing, and when you turn to him, he raises an eyebrow at the two of you.

You ask him, "Is everything okay?" You pull away from his twin.

He doesn't speak, ripping the package of a snack open, almost _harshly_ , as if he is angry at something. When he finally does speak, he says it with a flat, uninterested tone, and you get the feeling it was indeed, practiced, "If both of ya want to get all intimate and stuff, go upstairs. Don't even think about doing anything in front of me."

You give a humorless chuckle, patting his head, "Don't worry, 'Samu, we're not going to do anything."

You see him flinch at your touch.

He murmurs under his breath, and his words fail to enter your ears. You ignore it, waving it off with a shake of your head as your hand falls from Atsumu's hair. You expected, as always, that the twins would heal their bond with one another, as they did with numerous other disagreements. Atsumu isn't the disagreeable man you thought him to be, and he gave you his wonderful time to prove to you he isn't the worst after all.

As for Osamu, you wonder, for his feelings are masked and hidden, away from you. It is as if you and he are no longer friends, estranged, with one another. Both of you barely talked, and if you did, the topic of your soulmate always comes from his lips. You never fail to notice the tense upright posture of his shoulder when he moves his lips to speak to you, and when he listens to you about his twin.

He is always there, but he is quite far away.

_"Oh, he is such a disagreeable man. I find it hard to believe he is your brother, Osamu-san!"_

The first words you spoke to Osamu ring in your mind. And it dawns upon you that right from the start, he was there for you, and everything, small or big, was about Atsumu, not him. And perhaps, when you have him enveloped in your embrace during the passionate intercourses you shared, only then he feels full. _Only then, he feels love._

And you did feel the same when you thought his face is too similar to your soulmate, that you began thinking it wasn't Osamu, it was Atsumu instead. When you moaned your pleasure, looking at him, the hair that greeted you was golden yellow, not as black as wet soil.

You keep silent while the movie is playing, eyes boring into the screen while you bite your lip to prevent the salty tears escaping the gates of your eyes.

_It frightens you that one day, you might have to choose._

* * *

Everything is too familiar.

You curse once again the choice of your footwear, stomping on the rain puddles in front of you. You step under the terror of the rain for a moment. It is familiar. The sight, the atmosphere, the impatience. Even the glow of the store behind you. And the hot handles of the bags of groceries around your weary fingers, and you, waiting like a sitting duck.

You shiver, feet starting to hurt. You wonder, why such a popular store of this district is absent of chairs or anything to sit on. The signal is out, and thus you can't text for Osamu to get you. You have no choice but to wait until the rain stops. You look at the skies, cloudy, no stars, and no moon, mulling about the familiarity of the moment. At the corner of your eye, you spot someone coming towards you.

You nearly choke on your saliva. "A-Atsumu? What are you doing here?"

"Came to get 'ya, what else dumplin'?" he shrugs, smirking at you. He takes the tote bags from your hands, giving you the umbrella, "We should go before it gets even heavier now."

You snap out of your trance, that was staring at the drops of water that cling on his cotton jacket, sticking on his toned and handsome body, "U-uh yeah, sorry . . . "

"What're ya apologizin' for?" he asks, but then he stops. You tilt your head, asking him, "What now?"

"I think I should be the one apologizin' to you," he starts, staring at somewhere other than your eyes.

_Could it be? Could it be that he is apologizing for the months of torture he has made you go through? About leading you? About leaving you hanging?_

You bite your lip as you thought of Atsumu apologizing, and having him, finally, as a soulmate. And that you will succeed, you will be happy, you will not be _empty_ anymore. The thrill of hope runs through your feelings and mind, blocking all sorts of rational thought, too distracted by the poison that clouds your head.

_And maybe it is a good kind of distraction._

Even your skin tickles at his expression, about the sentiment in the euphony of his voice.

Yet, you are disappointed once again.

"I should have brought a better umbrella," he says with an apologetic grin. You hold up the umbrella above you, the canopy resting from the bullets of rain for a few minutes. Indeed, it is an umbrella which is touches away from breaking. You suppress the urge to laugh, but you fail miserably.

"You dumb goof!" you mock, a hand covering your mouth.

Even though your heart aches for him to apologize to you, and to have him with you, perhaps even forever, you laugh at his pathetic excuses. It tickles your skin right into your weak spots, and it as if he is inching himself towards your heart, and the emotions you hide from him.

"Oi! Stop laughin'," he ruffles your damp hair, then his hand falls to your cheek. He pinches it, and you stop laughing to smack his hand away.

"Keep your hands away from me, evil spawn!"

"What's with that nickname?! What did I ever do to ya?" he asks aggressively, his voice oozing with playful anger. You wipe the tears from your eyes with a finger, stilling your breaths to talk.

"We should get goin'," he says once again, "Here, use my jacket."

At first, you refuse, but he insists by shutting you up with a finger to your lips, putting the black cotton jacket around you. His pleasant scent of the forest and petrichor overwhelms you as the fabric caresses your damp clothes, keeping you warm and safe no matter how little or big it helped from keeping you shielded from the rain.

The rain starts to get even massive, and both of you continue to exchange conversation, however this time you shout at each other.

"What are ya waitin' for?!" he asks, stepping into the rain, beckoning you to join him. "Do ya want me to go back and get another umbrella instead?!"

"No," your mouth threatens to let out a plea. Indeed, you partly thought that it would be a hassle to go back, but you do not want Atsumu to leave your side, especially under the night of 9:30 PM. 

"Actin' like a hero now? Ya want to go there, and I'll wait here?"

"Shut up, evil spawn."

"Bitch."

Both of you laugh as the downpour of the rain hit your frames as bullets would to a bulletproof vest. You hug the tote bags of groceries, Atsumu's warm and big jacket over your shoulders, and your head.

"Let's go," he smiles at you, genuine and unwavering, "Everything is going to be okay as long as you're here with me."

_And for once in your life, you feel full._

* * *

"I don't want to, Atsumu, give it up," you give him a nervous laugh as he grasps your hands in his, pulling you up from the chair.

You laugh with him, and he responds with a pout, "Please, just this once princess? I love this piece. I want to enjoy it with ya."

"You can enjoy it by just listening to it, or even dancing it by yourself," you refuse his invitation once again, but his stubbornness doesn't let up.

"Just this once, please?" he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, "I promise ya it'll be fun!"

You chuckle at his ministrations and then give up. You let him pull you to the center of the living room, away from the loveseat, and to open space. He plays the piece from Howl's Moving Castle—Merry Go Round of Life—the music filling the whole living room. 

He seems true to his endearments, and you can see the shine in his eyes when he looks at you, the warmth of his palms on your waist, and the forehead kisses he gifts you. It is real. It _feels_ real. You don't taste lies on his tongue, and you don't inhale the slightest bit of hesitation. 

The music rings pleasantly. But it cannot rival Atsumu's voice when he says those three words you've always wanted to hear ever since you've met him,

"I love you."

_And maybe, you don't hate him anymore._

"Want to go on a date?" he asks you as he lies his head down on your lap, gazing at the old and rusting abandoned rides of the theme park. The bench's seat digs on your buttocks and the back of your thighs, your fingers caressing his hair.

"Don't you have a game tomorrow?" you ask him, tilting your head down to look at him.

"It got canceled," you can hear the pout in his voice. "but at least I get to spend time with ya, right babygirl?"

"Again with the nicknames?"

"What about 'em?"

"I . . . " you hesitate, "nothing."

The 7:30 PM violet night sky is something that is admired, especially by the couples who meander through the streets. The breeze is cold, the stars shining, and the moon illuminating too bright to light up the city even with the dimmest lights.

In Japan, public affection is almost something uncalled for, yet that unspoken rule is foreign to Atsumu, or he forgoes it himself, for he marches to the beat of his drum. He does not take no for an answer when you refuse him either, teasing and pushing you until you give in and snatch his hand, with you looking away to hide from his gaze.

"Stop that!" you shout at him under your breath.

"Stop what?" he replies.

"That grin of yours," you look at him, rolling your eyes, "you're supposed to be nice to me in a date."

"Oh really? I didn't know!" he laughs at you with his other hand covering his mouth, and you smack the back of his head to quiet him down.

Everything seems so magical. Like time is slowing down, and you can only hear the sound of Atsumu, breathing, laughing, and talking to you with such a suave, and seductive voice of his. It would seem he is inviting you to bed right after the date, and you feel your cheeks heat up, slapping his arm.

The night is too beautiful, but there is always something that ruins it.

"Hello there, Atsumu-kun!"

And when you turn your figure to see who dares interrupt the date you've always wanted, for ages, you stop in your tracks, the beat of your heart fast, and after each pulse, it thuds a pain familiar to you, the voice which hurts you straight to the crevices of your feelings and emotions.

_"'Tsumu, who the hell is this?"_

You have heard this voice before.

"Seems like you have yourself a friend tonight?" she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "or is she more than a friend?" She looks at both your entwined hands.

Atsumu hesitates, before snatching his hand away from yours, "Y-yes. . . she is just a friend."

_"Oh,_ **_her_ ** _. She's a waitress here, dun really know her that much."_

The pain feels old and new simultaneously. The remains of your careful love, crumbling, and aching, as it hits you with the reality that maybe, _he can never truly. . . love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about Atsumu's progress of redeeming himself? Do you still think he has a chance? 
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


	8. I Hate—Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But Derek, I love you, in a really, really big 'pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window,' unfortunate way that makes me hate you ...love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me." 
> 
> \- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy Season 2 Episode 5

> **_Hate is not the opposite of love, it is indifference._ **

If you were to meet Yue Xia Lao in the moments of your despair, would he see a red thread that ties you to Atsumu Miya? Or would he tell you that it isn't here, and it is on the other side of the world? Of course, that would be impossible, when the sole thing that ties you to Atsumu is not your love, or not his mocking, or his shining and confusing eyes. It is not even a red thread. It is his name that is on your skin, and your name in his. 

You complain to the gods. Why must he be your soulmate? How can he be like this to you? How can he be so cruel? How can he be so . . . dismissive? 

When you remember last night's events when you urged Osamu via text to pick you up from the mall, away from the socializing Atsumu and whatever-the-girl's-name-is, Atsumu looked so happy with her. 

During the whole ordeal, you were silent. Even when you looked at Atsumu, a facade of happiness lied in his expression. 

You shuffle, shoving your clothes to the suitcase. You feel the loveseat rubbing your buttocks, and you remember the moments you cried about Atsumu, the hours you've spent under the merciless hot shower on your skin, biting your lip to silence the cries that quiver waiting in your tongue. The more you feel pain, the more it numbs and crumbles to nothing. This loveseat is full of memories that burn in the back of your mind.

The door to the kitchen slams open, and you hear Osamu's shout of your name, "Yer leaving? What happened last night?" 

"It's useless, 'Samu! It will never work with us," you shout, and all of a sudden, your head is exceedingly light, yet burning, tears brimming on the ends of the windows of your soul. You place hands around you, "not when he is like this. Do you think he denies it? That he denies his feelings for me? When he feels like that, it's up to me to let him-" 

"No," he interrupts you, "ya should leave now. Tokyo is better for ya."

"But . . ." you try to reason. Osamu walks towards you, kneeling on the floor in front of your seating position, eye-level. His aura feels so cold. _He is truly like the moon_.

"Please?" he smiles at you, and for a moment, you hear the silent hesitation coating his tone, "If not for ya, do it for me. Be free for me. Be free."

"'Samu . . . " you can never really think, only say his name, "I'm sorry. I'm . . ." 

You avoid his eyes and look at the wooden floor. The creamy color bleeds into a blur, and you jump slightly at the gush of cold liquid that escapes your eyes, "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry . . . it's all my fault, I'm s- sorry . . ."

"Shhh," you can hear the smile in his voice, trying to cheer you up, "don't worry, the famous Osamu Miya understands, right?"

"I'm s-" he stops you with a kiss on your forehead, his warm lips treating your soul gently, and a wave of happiness and warmth spreads through your very being. 

"Just think about it. Ya won't be sleeping on the couch anymore, ya'll be having a proper apartment, maybe even a house yeah? What about that, sweetheart?"

Your heart tugs painful strands of your heart, "But . . . it's hard in Tokyo, and I don't know anyone there. W-what about you?"

"We have a branch in Tokyo, and I can put ya in there while you get comfortable. It's gonna be hard but anything is better than here, right? Away from him, when he hurts ya so much." 

And finally, you look at him, hiccuping as you do so. His face looks crestfallen, and the room rings of his shaking voice, struggling to pick itself up when his eyes are opening and closing rapidly to prevent tears escaping. His words betray his tone of voice and the expression that he displays with every crinkle of his face. 

"I'm sorry . . . that I _can't_ love you, I'm sorry, it's all my fault, I'm sorry for hurting you . . . " you sob, clutching Osamu's shirt closer to you. You hear his breath hitching close to your ear as his words quiver. He pushes you, slow and languid, from his embrace. You see the smile, forced upon his face, and you tremble at how your mind is keeping you to imagine it was Atsumu instead. 

But before he utters the next words, you feel another presence enter the room. The devil enters the room, his shattering countenance and bruising ego joining the atmosphere of the room that cowers in fear at the gaze he is giving you. And the ants in your mind flee, the presence of Osamu is too strong that you hide behind him.

But before you are safe under his protection, Osamu stands up, giving you one last pat on the shoulder, and walks out of the room without a single noise from his being. You stare at Atsumu, standing there, fresh out of the shower, track jacket and pants wrapped tightly around him, a backpack loosely hanging from his broad shoulders. His aura exudes someone giddy and excited for a game who can't leave because of personal problems. He was like a husband to his wife when the wife lies with him in bed, back turned to him with begrudging sounds of the aftermath of an argument, and he was waiting or pushing you to speak the words first when he knew not of what he wants to convey. 

You give him a grimace, "I'm not leaving."

The lies leave your lips too quickly, and thankfully, he doesn't catch it. 

"G- good," he says, voice small, taking too long to answer, "I'm leaving for Miyagi today, the season is starting and uhm-, I'm sorry." 

Your ears perk up at his apology, but you burn all shred of pity for him, "Have a nice trip." 

"I hope I can see ya again, by the time the season's ended," he ventures and walks onto eggshells when he looks at you, hesitating, the rapid blinking of his eyes irking you. And then he mutters one last word in your presence, his voice croaking, "Good—"

"Just stop talking," you smile, mirthless, voice quivering, "because whenever you talk . . . I fall in love all over again."

Atsumu lets out the breath you have noticed he's been holding, and he nods, acknowledging you. When he is facing the restriction you impose, he kneels, slowly with perfect balance, and then, he prostrates. 

Your hands fly to your mouth, body tense with shock. Atsumu's forehead meets the cold wooden floor, his freshly bathed wet hair grazing his face. He stays there even when you are speechless, and stands when you try to open your mouth, but nothing leaves the cave of your words. The apology on his expression and his actions emphasize and signal the pride he is letting down that has done harm to you during so many months of pain and heartbreak. 

He leaves when your eyes meet again. 

In an unfortunate turn of events, his statement of seeing you again is closer to falsehood than his shining eyes of love for you. A man like him can never be satisfied, not when he denies how he pines for you. 

And for the last time, you remark to yourself, alone in your chamber full of swirling thoughts, "He is truly like the sun." 

_Burning. Shining. Something you can't get enough of._

* * *

The best thing about the day is the clouds that scatter in the sky. Gray soft clouds that cover the sun, and holding back the rain that threatens to spill from its chambers of comfort. In one way or another, you are like the clouds when you bite your lip to stifle your cries and hold back the tears from spilling through the windows of your soul.

You have considered that you are one of the clouds because you are always there. Whether it would be day or night, you never hide, you are there. When you sit on the waiting chairs, you mull. 

You find it funny that the television on the big poles that hold the roof of the waiting area broadcasts the MSBY Black Jackal versus Shweiden Adlers, and they show that the players are warming up. You avert your eyes in hopes to ignore any sight of Atsumu, because every time you see him, you find yourself unfocused, uncoordinated, everything good and bad together. 

It is exhausting. 

But you never get enough of it. 

You stand up from your seat as the Shinkansen arrives by the minute, subconsciously tapping your foot on the grey tiled floors of the train station. Until the mention of Atsumu from one of the reporters distracts you.

"Miya Atsumu-san, this is your first game of the season! Do you have something to tell your fans, family members, or your soulmate?"

"Thank ya! I wanted to thank my fans for always bein' there for me to support me. For mum, dad, and my twin 'Samu, I couldn't have done it without y'all and I dun think I can express my gratitude in words or in any way," Atsumu smiles at the camera, and you feel your heart break.

"And what about your soulmate, Miya Atsumu-san?"

"I-, well this is going to be long," he clears his throat, "To my soulmate, I dun know if you're watchin' this but . . . I just wanna say I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry for everything I did to you, I'm sorry."

He gives a sad smile to the camera, "It's because of my pride, ain't it? Of course, that's no excuse but, I'm really really truly very sorry. I dun think you can ever forgive me, but,"

You notice the passengers like you who are watching the television, and you feel the cold tears that dance on the skin of your cheeks. He continues with a shaking breath that even the microphone catches it, 

"Just, I hope ya know how sorry I am, and how much I hope I could've had the guts to tell ya this yesterday and even through a phone call, but that's equally worse compared to this. But that's all, just know that . . ." he pauses, "I love ya, truly very very much and just because I didn't tell ya doesn't mean I don't. There wasn't one single person that made me feel alive, and then ya came along. It'll never be the same as any other. I was a coward, and once again, I'm sorry. So, wherever ya go, I hope ya'll be happy, even if it ain't me or if it's away from me, or even if ya'll never see me again. Goodbye, and be free."

Does that explain his shining eyes whenever he sees you? Does that mean his actions betray his feelings? Is this the truth?

And when you remember the look that he gives the camera, it is a mixture of everything you have ever wished for, and everything you have dreamed. It is his handsome face that morphs into pure sincerity and apology, and you see the faint shine in his eyes and hear the subtle tone of his voice whenever he says your name. 

You hear the Shinkansen arrive and zip past the station, showing all the doors that will open its arms to the passengers soon. It halts to a stop, and the people start to leave and go. 

You hesitate, your movements stopping in front of the open door of the bullet train. You could come back. Unknown forces are telling you to go back, to forgo the trip, yet you stop. And you stare, at yourself, or the sight before you, you do not know.

There is no man nor woman nor child in the area of your gaze. There is none even around the embrace of your consciousness. And it is only you, alone in that station, alone on that side of the train. 

_It is only you._

And you do not hesitate anymore. You run through the entrance before the doors close behind you. The twins' voices running through your mind like the clouds' lament, pouring its basin of emotions to the Earth,

**_"Be free."_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The official ending is the reader chooses Atsumu. Because once again, someone cannot forget their love for their soulmate, no matter how much they want to. UNLESS if their soulmate has done things that are traumatizing to them, like rape, attempted murder, torture, etc... or anything that can be considered trauma to the soulmate. 
> 
> [2] However, the reason I did not write that the reader ends up with Atsumu because I want you, the readers, to decide if you will willingly forgive Atsumu and love him, forgive him simply or even not forgive him. You can even choose Osamu instead. Who do you choose? The twins do not want to share, so you cannot choose both. However, you have the ability to choose no one. I hope I wrote the ending as ambiguous as possible.
> 
> [3] Who do you choose? Osamu or Atsumu? Or no one? 
> 
> [4] That's basically it. I just want to inform you about that, it doesn't really matter. I just want to add some other information to enhance the story. Read more of the end notes for character analysis of the twins and a little bit about the reader. 
> 
> [5] Evil spawn is a reference to Alex Karev's nickname from Grey's Anatomy. He just reminds me of Atsumu, haha, and both are people who tend to rile up and irritate other people too. 
> 
> [6] The title of this short story is actually from one of Meredith Grey's quotes from Grey's Anatomy as well. Which is above as the first quote of the chapter. 
> 
> [7] I have another series in the works! It is a Kita Shinsuke/Reader fic, another short like this one. I am still not sure when I will publish it, so please be on the look out if you want to. Thank you!
> 
> [8] I take Atsumu's character as someone who is never satisfied with himself. So he tried to put on a facade that he handles everything well, and his ego worsens because he wants to be different from most of the people who love their soulmates. For the whole short story, Atsumu was in denial, denial, denial. That bit when he prostrates in front of you as a sincere apology, signals that he has put down his pride for you. Osamu, however, also loves you and wants you to be happy—but this is also because he couldn't accept the fact that he was markless, and wasn't destined to have one. Both of them are opposites—Atsumu didn't want a soulmate, Osamu wanted one. In the end, they didn't get what they want, and I think it is for the better since they need to learn how to love themselves—that it's okay to be like that. For the reader, I wanted to emphasize that in the end, it is only them that look out for themselves, and at the end the one who makes the decisions is them. The reader knows what is best for them. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts about the ending, the characters, the writing style, the plot, the story overall! I would love to hear your feedback! Thank you for reading and your support!
> 
> Message me on tumblr if you have any questions or asks or even requests! 
> 
> tumblr - @anayrovi


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